


the cat and the glutton

by BlackJacketsandPens



Series: packbonding [2]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Gen, my rp partner is to blame for this and i still love it, the weirdest friendship you ever did see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 16:34:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12634902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackJacketsandPens/pseuds/BlackJacketsandPens
Summary: Grimmjow seeks out the Novena, and ends up enjoying the company.





	the cat and the glutton

It was hard to tell time in Hueco Mundo. It was alway night and the moon never shifted in the sky, so Grimmjow and his pack had always guessed the days by when they were tired enough to sleep. It wasn’t like it really mattered, at any rate.

But here in this palace being built before their eyes, this massive dome Aizen called Las Noches that was seemingly appearing bit by bit out of nowhere, the shinigami seemed to want...order. Structure. Making the Arrancar who followed him operate on a schedule as humans would. Grimmjow thought it was deeply annoying, but as with all of them, his internal clock adjusted.

With this new schedule, he knew it had been nearly three weeks since he had become an Arrancar, since he had joined the Espada. Aizen had called for him the day after he’d arrived to make it ‘official’ -- the tattoo on his back itched for days, but he was proud of it all the same. Even if it felt like a brand, like Aizen’s mark of possession...it was also proof of his power. A six -- the _Sexta_. Something concrete, an acknowledgement of his strength. Not that he expected to keep it for long. He wanted the _one_.

The Primera -- a scruffy looking guy that didn’t look like much -- didn’t seem to want to fight as much as nap, and was kind of friendly besides, so Grimmjow decided to aim for elimination-style rather than all at once. First the Quinta, then the Cuarta, and so on. If he could get either of the bastards to take him fucking _seriously_.

The Quinta had turned out to be that son of a bitch who’d threatened to kill Shawlong and the others, the stick-thin one -- _Nnoitra_. And the Cuarta? The very same fucking Arrancar that had beat hisass before he’d come to Aizen, a small skinny one with pale skin and cold green eyes. Ulquiorra, his name was. And both of them had made it very personal.

But neither one would give him the time of fucking _day_. Nnoitra had laughed in his face, and Ulquiorra had simply walked away. When he’d pressed the issue, all he’d gotten for his trouble was a broken arm from Nnoitra and a nasty bruise on his side from Ulquiorra. Of course, that just made him more determined, but...well, he’d just have to work at it. He’d keep trying until he made them fight him fairly -- he was nothing if not persistent.

The other members of the Espada didn’t really interest him. There was the Segunda -- that was Baraggan, and he was surrounded by his flunkies, now Arrancar themselves. Bunch of assholes, they were. They’d looked like they knew how to have a good time, but had refused to give Grimmjow and his pack the time of day. Like they were any stronger. Apparently the Tres Espada was some chick who’d vanished before Grimmjow had shown up, so the spod was empty. The Septa was some nutjob named Zommari, so sickeningly loyal to Aizen it made Grimmjow gag, and the Octava -- promoted just before Grimmjow had gotten there -- was...apparently Yylfordt’s younger twin brother. Beats him how that worked, but they did look alike. He was some creepy scientist, though, and Grimmjow figured it was safest to stay away.

And the Novena…

Well, he was different. He hadn’t seen Aaroniero since his first day, and no one he asked about it among the increasing numbers of Arrancar seemed to either know who that was or care, if they did. It was like he really was inconsequential, even to the weaker ones. Kind of depressing. But he’d been the first guy who Grimmjow had spoken to, and maybe it was because of that and because he didn’t feel like talking to the Primera, but he figured he’d seek him out to ask him stuff.

It was easier said than done, though, so when he finally saw a familiar long head and ruffled collar walking along one of the new bridges, he was there in a flash of sonido, almost tackling the other Espada to the ground. “There you are!” He said. “I was lookin’ for you!”

After Aaroniero got done shrieking and clutching his chest in a pantomime of shock, he peered down at Grimmjow from behind that weird mask. “S...Seriously?” He asked, his voice sounding...different. A little deeper and scratchier. “Me? Why were you looking for me?” And then it sounded weird again, squeakier.

“You said to come find you if I had questions about shit,” Grimmjow said pointedly, staring up at him with guileless exasperation. “I have questions. Why’d you say it if you were gonna fucking vanish?”

“I…” The squeaky voice managed, before the deeper voice spoke. “I didn’t think you’d take it seriously. No one else does…”

Grimmjow wrinkled his nose. “Stupid,” he complained. “If you also didn’t think I’d take it seriously, you shouldn’t have said it. So are you gonna actually answer shit?”

There was silence for a moment, as if he’d genuinely surprised him. “Y-yes!” The deep voice said, gesturing, before the squeaky one pitched in. “Come on, I have-- I have a room in this tower we can talk in. I don’t really like the dome…”

“Ugh, yeah,” Grimmjow muttered, though he didn’t _entirely_ agree. On the one hand, it really was garish now that the dome of Las Noches was almost entirely finished. The underside, the one they stood under, was made as if to be a human world’s sky, all pale bright blue and with a bright, warm sun. An artificial sky for a fake daytime, the exact opposite of Hueco Mundo’s eternal night. On the one hand, it was just another way Aizen was trying to make them conform to what _he_ wanted, but on the other hand...it was bright, and it was warm, and even if the concept of it sucked...it was still nice. He’d taken to taking naps out under it on top of one of the towers in the five or six days it had been turned on. “Fucking Aizen. S’it too bright for you, or something?”

“Something like that,” Aaroniero’s deeper voice admitted as they entered the dim room of the tower. “Turns out I’m...sensitive to it. It’s hard to be in the light for long, so…” He laughed quietly, and the squeaky voice picked up. “Though my opinion’s never really mattered. No point in complaining to Aizen-sama about it.”

“You should anyway if it’s actually hurting you,” Grimmjow said, spotting a corner with some cushions and flopping down in it. “Speak the fuck up if you don’t like something. Don’t let that asshole do whatever he likes.”

“I-I...can’t,” Aaroniero muttered, his voice changing again to the one Grimmjow had first heard. “I owe him my life, more literally than you could probably imagine. Even if I could speak up…”

Grimmjow snorted. “You can’t complain, so you just suck it up ‘cause you _owe_ him? Fuck is that bullshit?” He asked. “You don’t owe anyone but yourself anything. So what if he saved you or made you or whatever? You’re a fucking Espada. Don’t let anyone walk all over you.”

“I’m a _Gillian_ ,” Aaroniero snapped irritably. “I’m only an Espada because of my Zanpakuto’s ability, and that ability was created by Aizen-sama. It’s not about letting him do anything, it’s about knowing exactly what I can and can’t do, and I can’t do anything about anything.”

Grimmjow frowned at that. A Gillian? Nakeem was a Gillian...then again, he’s not an Espada. So whatever Aaroniero could do was the only reason he was ranked so high...and what he could do was entirely due to Aizen. He was starting to understand, now. “He’s got you trapped, then,” he said finally. “Tightest collar of all of us here. You’re only so useful, and you know it -- you have some safety, but not enough to be able to bitch about anything or assert yourself.”

He snorted, even as he could feel Aaroniero stare at him. “Fucked up, is what that is,” he said. “But I guess that makes sense, why you’re so weak. Doubt he’d have made someone so useful strong enough to talk shit and get away with it.”

“Y...Yeah,” Aaroniero said slowly. “How did you-- you’re--” He laughed, finally, sounding a bit baffled. “You’re a lot more observant than I gave you credit for. I thought you were just another stupid musclehead like Nnoitra, but...you’re something else, Grimmjow.”

Grimmjow just grinned. “Sure as fuck am,” he said proudly, not sure if it was a compliment or not but taking it as one anyway. “So, we gonna have a Q and A, or...?”

“Yeah, we are, we are,” Aaroniero said with another laugh, sounding a bit more relaxed. He moved over to the smaller pillars in the room and kicked at one, revealing a loose panel. He slid it open and rummaged around, finally pulling out some odd looking containers. “Snacks,” he said, catching Grimmjow’s confusion. “Living World stuff, mostly. Aizen-sama has someone stock the kitchen, since shinigami need to eat normally and we Arrancar _can_.”

“Really?” Grimmjow said. He’d noticed that the gnawing, screaming hunger of being a Hollow had dulled to almost completely ignorable levels, and he’d noticed that weird room Starrk had told him was a ‘kitchen’ for making food, but he’d never really… “That’s weird,” he said, moving so Aaroniero could flop down next to him on the cushions. “Being an Arrancar is…”

“An experience,” Aaroniero finished. “We’re not human or shinigami, but we aren’t completely Hollows anymore, either. We can eat food that isn’t each other, we can ignore our hunger -- well, _you_ can -- and we can...we function more like something that isn’t quite a Hollow. It takes getting used to, doesn’t it?” He opened one of the containers and Grimmjow’s eyebrows rose. Whatever it was smelled amazing. “Speaking of which, how are you getting on? You were a literal _cat_ before you became an Arrancar. Walking and doing stuff like a person must have been really weird.”

Grimmjow groaned. “Fuckin’ hell, yeah, it was,” he admitted. “It took me like four fucking days to be able to use sonido without tripping and falling on my face like an idiot, and hands are still goddamn _weird_.” A pause. “I still nearly punch the, uh-- reflection thing when I see myself in it,” he added with a snort.

“Mirror,” Aaroniero said. “It’s a mirror.” It was his turn to pause as he reached for his mask, and he let out a choking noise. “--oh my god, you don’t know any of this, that’s right,” he managed. “I keep-- I keep forgetting you don’t have memories of human things-- oh my _god_.”

“Shut up!” Grimmjow snapped. “Of course we don’t, we’re fucking Hollows! How the hell do _you_ know, anyway?”

Aaroniero stifled a snicker, and shook his head before removing the mask and setting it aside. Grimmjow blinked at what was under it, startled -- it was what looked like a completely normal person, a human with dark spiky hair and green eyes. “It’s because of that ability I mentioned,” he explained. “Pretty much everything you probably might ask about me goes right back to that.” he lifted his left hand, revealing that unlike his right it was covered by a glove. “You were told about your Zanpakuto, right?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Grimmjow said, putting his hand on the hilt of Pantera. It had been there the morning after he’d become an Arrancar -- all of theirs had, his and his pack -- and he’d known it was his. It felt like part of him, and it was Starrk who’d explained after the little Espada ceremony meeting thing. It was a part of him, the excess Reiatsu from his transformation into an Arrancar bleeding out and forming a sword. It was his Zanpakuto, like the ones shinigami had -- and releasing it would push that excess power back into him, giving him a significant boost in strength. It was kind of cool, Grimmjow had to admit. His secret weapon, his real power at his side sheathed in steel, ready to be used upon any poor asshole who thought he could put up a fight. “I know what it is, and about Resurreccion.”

“Good!” Aaroniero said. “Saves me that part of the explanation.” He wiggled the fingers of his gloved left hand. “This is mine. It’s...special. Different from yours or any other, because of how Aizen-sama made it. It’s...called Glotoneria,” he explained. “And it’s partly because I’m a Gillian that it’s so effective. A Gillian is made up of thousands of souls, ones that haven’t coalesced into one and become an Adjuchas with its own singular personality. Being me, being a Gillian, still having that hunger...my hunger was made my power.” He sighed, taking one of the things from the container and biting into it as if to prove his point. “I can access and use the abilities and skills and memories of any Hollow I eat, _every_ Hollow I eat. That power is why I’m not dead or a Numeros -- its potential. You get it?”

“Y...yeah,” Grimmjow said slowly, a bit spooked. He knew that hunger real well, was still intimately familiar with it after only three weeks without. To think that Aizen had taken that awful, sucking emptiness, that horrible feeling of being so empty that you need to consume and consume just to fill it and never managing it...taken it and forced a Hollow to exist solely to use it as a weapon? That was _sick_. “What’s it got to do with your face, though?”

Aaroniero shrugged. “I ate a Hollow that had possessed a shinigami,” he explained. “So I got a twofer. I can even use his Zanpakuto. It’s actually pretty neat!” He laughed, but his face fell quickly. “The good bits about having his memories is that I know a lot more about Soul Society and normal human and shinigami stuff than most of us do. That bad bits…” He grimaced, shaking his head, and changed the subject. “You should try this, if you haven’t tried human food yet,” he suggested, offering the container. “It’s basically useless in comparison to eating Hollows, but it tastes good, so I say it’s worth it anyway.”

Grimmjow shrugged. “Right,” he said, eyeing the container. “What is it?”

“Oh, they’re dumplings,” he explained. “It’s, uh...basically a kind of pastry filled with meat. It’s hard to describe when the concepts are all unfamiliar to you, so...just try it?”

Grimmjow shrugged, taking one from the container -- surprised it was still warm -- and took a bite. And paused. And ate the whole rest of it in one go. Aaroniero laughed at that and laughed harder when grimmjow grabbed another one, shaking his head. “Told you it tasted good,” he said, amused.

It took Grimmjow a moment to finish eating so he could talk again. “Fuck, that’s _really good_ ,” he said. “Human food is _awesome_ if it’s all like this.”

“It can vary a lot, but yeah, it’s all really good.” Aaroniero said brightly. “I have some rice balls, too.” He indicated another container. “I’m probably the only one who ever goes near the kitchen besides Aizen-sama, so...I always make snacks for myself. It doesn’t fix the hunger, but it’s...a good distraction, and I can pretend.”

“Hey, whatever works,” Grimmjow said around a mouthful of rice ball. “I’ll walk by the kitchen more often, then.” If he could mooch off of someone who could make this stuff, then he sure as shit would. “This is awesome,” he repeated. “I think food’s my second favorite human thing.”

“Second?” Aaroniero asked, mock offended. “What could possibly be better than food?”

Grimmjow laughed. “That thing in the room with the mirror,” he said. “The hot water rain-y thing.”

“The...oh!” Aaroniero said. “The shower. I...okay, no, I see where you’re coming from,” he agreed with a grin. “Hot showers are one of the best things humans invented. Especially for us, since it never rains in Hueco Mundo and the lakes and stuff are always horrifically cold.”

“Damn right,” Grimmjow said with a matching grin. Aaroniero spoke the truth; it never once rained in Hueco Mundo, though it was a concept -- like the sun -- that he somehow knew of, and the bodies of water in the desert were always chill and uncomfortable to bathe in, but sadly necessary if you got covered in blood or other stuff. The shower thing...they were amazing, and he and his pack still fought over it, since it seemed like the hot water wasn’t infinite. “Humans aren’t entirely worthless, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Aaroniero agreed. “Not entirely.”

There was a strangely companionable silence for a few moments -- weird, as Grimmjow never really had that with anyone not his pack. Then again, Aaroniero wasn’t so bad. Weak, sure, and a bit of a coward, but...not bad. And honestly, if he acted like Nnoitra or Baraggan and his lackeys and never interacted with anyone weaker than him, he’d hardly interact with anyone, even his pack. Especially since with that distinction, the only people left would be people ‘stronger’, and he all but hated them all.

“So I guess most of your questions are about what human stuff is?” Aaroniero asked finally.

“Yeah,” Grimmjow said, stretching out and absently staring at his hands raised above his head. “Pretty much.”

“Go for it, then,” Aaroniero said. “It’ll be fun. Like Charades.”

“Sha-what?” Grimmjow asked, and the other Espada snorted.

“A game. You describe something and I guess what it is, basically,” he explained. “Humans play it to pass the time.”

“Humans are weird,” Grimmjow muttered, but filed that away and tucked his arms under his head. “So...first of all, what are those things called? The stuff we sit on.”

The two spent the next while talking, Aaroniero answering his questions with no small amount of amusement. Nonetheless, Grimmjow could see that the Novena was...oddly happy. Maybe because no one bothered to take him seriously, spend time with him, see him as anything but a burden or a weakling? Probably.

Not that he wasn’t a weakling, but...this was kind of alright. He was still useful -- he was smart, after all. Even weaklings who couldn’t fight well came in handy. Aizen obviously knew that too, but Grimmjow thought he could at least treat him better. Abused dogs always bite back somehow, eventually.

And maybe if Grimmjow spent enough time around him, Aaroniero would find his teeth.

He’d like to see that.

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely 100% blame my bbf (best bleach friend) for this because she RPed Aaroniero to my Grimm years back and this friendship stuck in my head. It's cute and good and Aaro needs more love, the poor tentacle monster.
> 
> Hot showers and food, the two (other) great loves of Grimmjow's life. That basically tells you everything you need to know about his priorities outside of fighting, in my headcanon. I can't see him being into fussing over his appearance or sex or any of that, I guess? He's...very childish, in a way. Very immature and straightforward about a lot of things. I like that about him.


End file.
